The Broken Door
by a great and terrible twilight
Summary: Kartik has come back to Spence after winter, and is visited by Mother Elena. Gemma has come back to Spence for her final semester, to find the magic loose. And not is all as it seems, even within Spence's walls. Work in progress, R&R to help make better!
1. Kartik and The Fortune Teller

Winter was ending, and mud covered the forests and path of Spence. The academy was soggy looking from the melting snow, and water dripped off of the roof at corners and above doorways incessantly. A smile formed on a young man's lips as he saw the school. _Ah, yes, home, sweet home._ But he'd not had a home, not since he'd been six. His smile twisted at the irony. A young man who's never had a home considering a young ladies' boarding school in nostalgia. He'd been trained continuously, raised on high standards, speaking English as a gentleman, and yet…

Kartik found himself with the Gypsies again, this time from choice, not assignment. _And They won't ever assign me anywhere or tell me to do anything ever again,_ he thought. He carried his small pack, even smaller since the considerable weight of the cricket bat had left it, and claimed his little plot to camp just outside of the main campfire's light. Many of the Gypsies, minus the questionably stable Mother Elena, had had trouble adjusting to Kartik, and the will to adjust had evaporated once they'd seen him kiss the 'Magic Girl'.

_Gemma._ Kartik sighed her name out, his heart starting to thump and his body starting to ache at remembering that first kiss he'd shared with her. He had tried to protect her from the Gypsies by calling her his own, and he'd been so sure that it had been just for protecting his subject. _Maybe I got a little too caught up in the suddenness of it all. After all, me kissing her back had nothing to do with attraction to her shining green eyes, or her flaming hair. And my breath certainly wasn't caught by how sweet she tasted, by how sweet she smelled or how soft her lips were. My breath wasn't caught so that all I could do was croak an answer back to the Gypsies when they commented. I couldn't have enjoyed it, I was part of the Rakshana, and I couldn't- _Kartik ruffled his hair as he dropped his pack, thinking back on this. _But now, oh how I wish I could relive the moment Ms. Gemma Doyle kissed me, and-_ He cut himself off. He was a fool, to be thinking of her, feeling for her, night and day. And indeed, it had been night and day, as Kartik had dreamed of her in a most inappropriate way.

He closed his eyes, standing next to his pack, remembering her soft skin, her urging kisses. _Oh, how I long for her…_ _Quit it! You sound like a lovesick fool._ He slapped himself, willing the thoughts away. It was just being back at Spence, he decided, that was drawing him back to these thoughts. He had thought he had cleared them up awhile ago, when he had been in London. After she had left him. _Apparently I haven't rid myself of these haunting wishes yet. And now, here I am, chasing after her like a hopeless, aimless child. I am sure she'll love me all the more now._ Kartik stopped._ Love._ Kartik hadn't thought of it that way. He hadn't ever even tried to comprehend that word. It was a futile attempt to try. _Don't try then._ He shoved any thoughts of Ms. Doyle out of his head. He took his time setting up his tent, forcing himself to concentrate on any and every detail. Anything and everything other than her.

To keep his mind occupied after he'd finished setting up the tent, he tried to reorganize all of his few belongings into the exact places they had been in last year. This was harder than he had expected. Once he had set up everything except his little nest of pine needles that had fallen, he looked into one corner of his tent and realized there was something missing. It immediately came to him. _My- I mean Ms. Doyle's cricket bat_. That was all that was needed to take him back to Christmas morning. He had thought he had left her that morning, but it was truly she who had left him. Whatever pain he'd hoped to inflict on her that morning, if she _even did_ feel anything for him, which he prayed, she had hurt him back a thousand times worse. _Why must this pain be so wounding? The Rakshana taught me how to dress bodily wounds, but I would rather be slashed all over than be forced to face this. _He thought this as he set his bed of foliage, and when he'd finished he realized that this was the spot where he'd dreamed of Ms. Doyle for the first time._ Fool! Stop thinking about her!_ Kartik sat on the ground and rocked back and forth, covering his face and moaning for a clear mind.

"Do I hear someone in need of a reading?" Mother Elena's voice crackled through the tent walls. A wrinkled, elderly face wearing a green scarf, different from the usual red, on top, with large gold hoop earrings stuck itself through the break in the materials. Various necklaces, several supposedly holding protection, dangled from the woman's small neck.

"Mother Elena, I just-"

"No, child, I can see in your aura a great conflict is in you. My Carolina asked me to repay you from when you brought Mary here. She is such a pretty girl. Though, she has such dark conflict in her. You two are alike, in that view. Now come, let me see what troubles your young soul." He couldn't take the thought of another knowing how he felt for Ms. Doyle. For Gemma. His heart was barely able to take it as it was. The aching of it made his eyes tear, and he forced himself to nod towards her.

Mother Elena wobbled in, bent from age and the layered clothing and such that caused her to look hunchbacked. Gold disks tied to a string were draped around her like a shawl, and Kartik noticed little writing on each of those disks.

"Let's sit now, and give me your hand." She came and sat next to him, though how her legs were set, Kartik couldn't tell under the folds of clothing. He barely had touched her outstretched hand when Mother Elena screamed. "Such pain!" she moaned. "Such regret of the past, and hopelessness for the future! My child, how came such woes? Place your hand on the ground, and I will try to see more." Kartik laid his right hand on the ground, palm up, and waited. After a moment, he looked up at Mother Elena expectantly, just waiting for her to vocalize all of his passions. What he found was a fearful face.

"Mother-"

"Shush. Shush. All is well. It was so much to bear, though, without a build-up. Just a sudden burst. This all has to do with one subject then." She mused to herself, rubbing the hand that had touched him against her chin. _Yeah, _Kartik thought, _and that one subject is me. The Rakshana may be coming after me, and I've had to face betraying them, my brotherhood. The girl I think I may love has snubbed me and is trying to take me out of her life, and I still feel bound to her because of Amar._

"Your tormented soul!" Mother Elena fell back, as if his thoughts were waves pounding against her. Kartik sighed, about to tell her that he had no more money to give her, and to tell her that her acting efforts were better used elsewhere. She pulled herself up, sucked in a breath, then reached and grasped his hand firmly. Her weather-beaten hand on his began to pale as she squeezed his tighter. It all came out in a rush. "Your family, oh, your family. You have failed them before, only once before, but now; you have given them up for love. Yes, for this family wasn't a true one." _Rakshana_, Kartk thought. "Your love has caused your life to be ruin. You have given it all up for love." Kartik remembered when he had finalized his betrayal of the Rakshana, when he had showed Gemma the way out and tried to distract them from her. _A fool in love._ "And this girl you feel bound to, so strong is the connection. She-" Mother Elena paused, with a face as if she was contemplating the words. "She is bound back to you, through," another pause, but Mother Elena seemed to be trying to understand what she was seeing this time. "She has been hurt as much as you, and with her loss was your loss." Kartik's face became contorted with held back pain. _My dear brother. He was all of my family. How good it would be if he were here now, to help me with women, among other things. But if he hadn't died, then Mrs. Doyle wouldn't have died, and I might have never been assigned to Gemma. If I could have protected them both, though, maybe I could have met Gemma through her mother. But 'could have's never happen._ "There is also a bond formed, formed by her, to you." Mother Elena did one of her elderly, good-natured smiles. "She _loves_ you." It took a second for him to grasp the words, but then Kartik's heart was a thumping mass of pain. _She loves me. She loves me after all that she's said and we've been through together._ He warmed as he thought the word, _together._ An involuntary smile grew on his face. His head was spinning from fast thoughts flitting through his head. Maybe if he gave it one more chance, he could go to Gemma and then- _No. I can't take the pain of hearing her deny me again._ _But if she loves me…_

"This isn't the infatuation I've usually seen, mind you. This is the stuff that is between two people who marry for love, not money or social worries. To have found your soul-mate at such a young age is extraordinary. It's actually sort of strange, dearie. Let me see more. Her eyes are one of the things you miss about her face." _I miss everything about her face. Everything about her._ Mother Elena laughed. "You sound lovesick, however much you truly are in love." Kartik blushed, wondering if she really could read him. "Tsk, tsk. Shouldn't doubt me. I would keep an open mind. I see your friend has. She has opened herself greatly, in fact." Mother Elena's old face took on a worried expression, creating more wrinkles. "It's almost like she's opened herself to the other world-" A terrified expression covered Mother Elena. The giddiness Kartik was experiencing began to fade as he watched her begin to whimper, "Those eyes. Those green eyes. She's Mary! She's taken my Carolina! No, she's not Mary. Who…? My goodness. She will bring _her_ and get me! Keep her away! Wait, she is trying to do good still. What fool is this? She must stop!" Mother Elena began to fling her hands around. "She doesn't realize what she's doing! Someone must go to the other side before it's too late!" Kartik realized that she was talking about Gemma in the realms.

"Tell me, Mother! What is it? What do you see?" Anxiety was filling him. _I must try and save her before anything happens! Oh, Gemma, what are you doing?_

"Kartik." It came out crisp and clear, a completely different voice from Mother Elena's soft rasping and grandmotherly tone. "You must go to the realms. To save us from…_Circe._" The last part was whispered out.

"Mother Elena," Kartik said steadily, trying to get her to hear him, "What must I do to go to the realms?"


	2. Gemma back at Spence

**Gemma's POV**

Coming back to Spence is like revisiting a place I've been to once long ago. I remember only those things that really stuck out, the exciting and fun moments. But after only minutes of being back at this grand academy and reliving those parts of my stay, I came back to reality as Mrs. Nightwing took in my dripping appearance as I stood in the front hall, freshly soaked from the downpour outside.

"My goodness, Ms. Doyle. Even though I came here to welcome you back to school, I must address your, ah, somewhat damp attire. Come now, hurry to your room before Brigid is cleaning up a lake. Ms. Bradshaw should be up in her rooms, as it is truly quite late. You could have chosen a more convenient time to appear, you know." Ah, yes, this is how I truly remember it being. Dear Mrs. Nightwing admiring the latest fashion from London, and having Brigid burst in with a worrisome face and mop, all the while mumbling about how all of us girls should be taught how to make an entrance, if nothing else.

**I'm skipping over the part in the end of Rebel Angels where Gemma receives the box. We all read it, and I hate rereading things by a worse author than the first**

"God save us from vanity, and forgive us for our cares about fashion. It is we who shame ourselves as to care for money and try to make ourselves the popular. Lord, forgive us for our many sins committed during your son's birth. Let us return to school with clear minds and put away our flashy dresses for the uniforms of the lord. Amen," we all chorused together on the last word in monotone.

Felicity nudged me, and whispered, "Only the most holy of priests could have said a sermon so...to the point." I giggle, and Ann leans across me to be in on the joke.

"What? What is so funny? Felicity, Gem-ma," she whines.

"Ms. Bradshaw," Mrs. Nightwing appears quite suddenly from behind us, "that will be quite enough talking during prayers." Ann looks at her clasped hands and mumbles an apology. Mrs. Nightwing gives an abrupt nod before walking away.

"Whew," Felicity feigning wiping her brow, "what has Mrs. Nightwing so strung tight?"

Cecily, who is sitting directly in front of us, pretends to need to fix her dress and sits back in her seat, then whispers, "A certain cousin of mine whose aunt's brother-in-law's daughter's childhood friend lives near Cambridge saw Mrs. Nightwing over her holiday break." Everyone sports doubting faces. Mrs. Nightwing isn't supposed to leave during holiday. "She said that Mrs. Nightwing might be removed from her position as head of Spence." We all gasp audibly. Mrs. Nightwing comes over with her long strides and glares at us. I growl my frustration. Some say patience is a virtue, but I think waiting is a nuisance.

I don't have a chance to talk to Cecily until we are all in the great hall. The room seems grander than I remember it, and I'm sure that those columns weren't like that. The nymphs, fairies, goblins, and other little strange creatures carved on the columns, that used to have malicious glares, look serene. It worries me. I remember back to when we had brought the magic of the realms to this world. I try to suppress a shudder, then head over to Cecily, where Ann and Felicity have already placed themselves comfortably on the last of the chairs by the fire. I say mock thanks before settling myself down in the center, all of us looking expectantly at Cecily.

Elizabeth squeals and says excitedly, "Go on, Cecily! Why is-" everyone hushes her, then she whispers, "why is Mrs. Nightwing being kicked?" She laughs, thinking herself daring for saying that. How boring her life must be to think that.

I exchange looks with Felicity, then glance over to Ann, who has a hurt expression on her face. Before I can do anything, she looks back towards Cecily, and urges, "Go on. Tell us, Cecily! You don't need to tease us!" We all stare for a moment. Is that our Ann who just spoke? I don't think I've ever heard her talk so clearly, so confidently, nor quite so fast. Cecily hasn't noticed, and has already begun speaking. I shake my head and look over to her.

"-changing the school system, so that schools aren't independent anymore. They wanted 'fresh blood'. And I'm sure that Mrs. Nightwing doesn't fit into that category. Though it would be very interesting to know how old she is." Elizabeth and her giggle, and I sigh with impatience. Funny how slow some days can seem. "There was also a debate over whether she was proper for us. There's been talk of her being in the company of some questionable people. Heathens, gypsies, and the like have been seen with her." Cecily leans in conspiratorially, making us all pull our heads in with anticipation, and she says, "They say she has been preaching about this other place, where you can just do whatever you want. And she says that someone has brought something like magic back! Apparently, she's been tracking down anyone who could have had the 'power' to get to the other side." Someone has brought the magic over? Who? I bound it to myself. What could have? I decide I will go to the realms tonight. What could have happened since then?

Elizabeth begins to openly laugh, "She's off her rocker!" She and Cecily begin chattering away, their backs turned to us. I look at Felicity, and she's gaping. I turn towards Ann, but find she's gone. I gesture at Felicity, and we both scurry over to her den.

"What on earth has happened since last we were there?" Felicity bursts as soon as we are in her spot. I shake my head dumbly, not sure of what _had_ happened. "You." She looks straight at me. "Weren't you just telling me the other day about how everything was solved because you had bound the magic to _yourself?_" I am stunned. She thinks it's _me_ who's brought the magic back? Doesn't she realize that I spend more often than not just wishing I wasn't capable of going there? I'm first ordered around and threatened by a group of men who are out to get power, then bossed around by my friends who think I'm a greedy, power-hungry girl, and finally I'm being faced with the whole realms and their magic. It's too much.

"Who do you think you are, coming at me like that? I have told you everything. Everything! And what do you do? Right when something seems even the tiniest bit suspicious, you immediately think I'm lying to you! And Ann! Where is that girl? She and you are always at it against me, so sure that I'm hogging a whole realm to myself. Maybe I've lied to you, but that was for protection. I am not a carriage between two places, just to be used until worn out, and then thrown away! I am my own driver! Whatever gives you the notion that you can tell me what and when to do things, I'm through with that! I'd rather go run off with those gypsies! And where is Ann?" I stop, my blood pulsing. I could call this feeling rage, but then I'd be being modest. I realize that Felicity is wearing a horrified face. A tear falls from the corner of her eye. I collapse and begin to sob, quietly, because we were in the great hall. That's when I realize that everyone is quiet. I look around through my tears, and find all eyes on me. I'm suddenly exhausted. I'm too tired to blush, and when Felicity says, "Oh," the whole hall erupts with girls whispering and laughing, and Mrs. Nightwing hurrying over.

"Good heavens, Ms. Doyle! What in the world is going on with you? Are you ill? Brigid, fetch tea for Ms. Doyle's room! Come now, Ms. Worthington, help me with your friend. Too much excitement from break and then coming back to school to receive a gift and all. You are going to stay in bed all of tomorrow, Ms. Doyle." Mrs. Nightwing takes one arm, and Felicity takes the other, and then I am half hoisted, half dragged out of the hall. I can't wait for Felicity and Ann to be with me. The realms are my responsibility, and I'll have to go by myself.

I free myself of the grips Mrs. Nightwing and Felicity have me under, and turn straight to them and say, "Yes, Mrs. Nightwing, I do believe that rest is the best thing for me right now. I have been under a lot of stress, and I have been losing patience. I'm sorry, and hope that you will forgive me. For now, I can escort myself to my own room. Thank you, though." The two look startled. I turn and walk off, leaving them that way. I know what I'm doing is hurtful to Felicity, because she knows that I'm going without her, but I can't help but feel as tightly wound up as I said I did.

I'm halfway up the stairs when I hear all noise fade away. I run to grab my blue cloak from my wardrobe, noticing Ann huddled in the corner of her bed. I am feeling irritable, but on seeing her look so troubled, I come to sit on the side of her bed. A sobbing noise escapes her. I sense something wrong, so I gently grab her shoulder and turn her towards me.

And I see it. Ann is very pretty, even with a red nose and swollen eyes from crying. I can't stop my eyes from growing wide. She has the realms' power. How did she get the magic?

"Ann…"

"Nothing is as it seems, is it Gemma? I always thought that the world was unfair. I tried-" another sob broke through her almost calm voice. "I thought the realms could make things as they should. But no, instead they just magnify the world. Everything hurts, Gem. Even with me pretty, and with a voice that could make angels cry, no one notices me. Not plain, old Ann." She brings her hands up to her eyes and the crying resumes. I notice she has a piece of paper in her hand. A very dirty, crinkled piece of paper. A lone name breaks into my thoughts. _Kartik_. No, no, no. He can't be back. He'll hurt me more. Or worse, we'll fall for each other. I've thought this through a thousand times. We can't be together. Maybe it isn't from him, I thought hopefully. Maybe…

"Ann, what is that?" I ask, gesturing towards the paper. She looks up at me now, straight at me. A slight smile forms on her lips.

"Gemma, if nothing else, I was using the magic to get men to notice me. A certain man, if you must know." She blushes a little before continuing. "That Tom is a hard fellow to attract. I can have money, wit, and beauty now. I can have grace, and charm, and a voice of heaven. They still don't see me. But _he_ sees you," she sneered. I'm pretty sure we aren't talking about the same man anymore, and I can't help but be flattered, yet at the same time scared. "You, with all of your imperfections. Is it power that he wants, that men want? I have power now, but they still don't see it. Do I have to flaunt it, to get them to see me?" A wicked glare passes over her eyes, quick, but still visible. I was scared of this side of Ann. I didn't know there was a 'this side' of Ann. This is like a nightmare. I can't think straight, Felicity is turning on me, Ann has a hidden side. I am on the verge of tears. I know I sound weak, but I doubt many have stood in my position.

I manage to clearly say, "Ann," before she cuts me off.

"You want to know what this is?" She waves the paper at me. "This is a letter from that _Indian_ boy," she spits out. I feel anger grow in me.

"There is _nothing_ wrong with being Indian. He is Indian, and _I_ am Indian." Even as I say this, I know it's true. As much as I have tried to be English, and as much as I am, there will always be that part of me that is of Bombay. "You may be beautiful, now, Ann, and you may have power, but nothing on this earth gives you the right to insult millions of people. Nothing gives you the right to say that to _me_. What is it?" Tears prick at my eyes, not for the first time today.

"So true, no_thing_ gives me that." She says this with such a twisted, knowing voice, that I am almost certain that Ann has been given help to get the magic. How else? "How can that Indian fall for you, even when I have enhanced myself?" Ann starts to cry. I put my arm on her back and she leans into my shoulder, letting it all out. Even if she does have this very unlady-like side of her, I can see that she still has a part of her old self. "In the note, he said, 'At first, getting to the moon may seem impossible. But knowing that a friend is at the end has me determined. I follow you from this world to the next.'" Ann begins to cry harder. "Why is this so unfair? How do you get a man so romantic to love you so much?"

I am still digesting this. Kartik. He's back. And he's a terribly beautiful metaphorical writer. And he accepted that I can't have him, nor him me. This leaves me disappointed and relieved at the same time. Wait. Ann said love. _Love._ He doesn't love me. Then, I thought desperately, he _can't_ love me. Stop thinking about this. I must think about Ann.

"Ann, I need you to calm down. There now," I say soothingly, rubbing her back. Why has everything fallen apart? "Ann-" she's gone. I fall forward onto her bed where before Ann had been sitting. Where is she? Now I am frightened. She is unstable, and has magic. What is she doing? What was she thinking about? Not Kartik, I pray, but I can't go to him now. I close my eyes and breathe slowly, trying to focus.

Where is that door? The light appears faded, as if there is a veil in front of it. The darkness around it feels stuffy, and I walk toward the door. It's as if I'm in a dark attic, with cobwebs and things strewn about everywhere, and a lit up room is just ahead. I find the doorknob, and blow out a breath of relief. It's wet and slippery. As if someone's wet hand had just touched it. I try not to shudder or think about what else could be in this darkness, and, with a little work, open the door.


	3. Back in the Realms

**Gemma's POV**

I'm not sure of where I am. At one moment I was sure that I was seeing the beautiful garden that greets me every time I come here, but my vision blurred and everything was gruesome looking. And now, I am only certain that this is not the garden. A tearing gust of wind rips at me, sending me spinning. My dress is caught on the current, and I am dragged crudely across dirt. Not mud, not sand or grass, plain dirt. And I might like to add that the unceremonious let of wind left me falling onto my knees. They scrape against the dry ground, and I feel warm blood trickle from them.

"Gemma Doyle…" a raspy voice hisses. I look around for a speaker. There is no one. "You aren't the same as you were last time you visssited meee…"

A small recognition kicks in as I hear her voice again. It is a horrible grinding to my ears, and I whisper, "No, no," willing myself to be wrong about who I was hearing. A little laugh, matching the voice, escapes, and I realize its coming from right next to me. I jump.

"My dear Gemma, things have changed since you've last come. If you hadn't tried to take all of the power to yourself, then this nasty occurrence might not have happened." The area around me has nothing to mark as landscape. No trees, or hills, not even a large rock adorns this empty place. Yet, when she steps in front of me, it's as if she had been hiding behind a wall. She is taller than when I last saw her, and there are muscles sticking out from her once soft skin. Her skin is almost scaly, like some water monster, and has a greenish tint to it.

"P-Pippa…" is all I can manage out. She stands there with no shoes, and her feet are torn and callused. Her once beautiful dress is ragged, with rips all over it, as if she had been in a fight. It only covers down to her knees now, and the sleeves have ceased to exist. Her matted hair barely blows when the wind blows by. "I'm s-so s-sorry…" I'm afraid to look at her face, to see those eyes that I remember from the last time I'd seen her. I'm afraid to see the once beautiful, soft Pippa, and know that my fears have been confirmed. She is looking back at me, but I know this from feeling those eyes gouging into me, not from looking at them. She glances at her nails, as if she is bored, and I see that there are long, claw-like nails there, somewhat yellowed, and bits of red on them. My throat is parched suddenly. It hurts just to breathe in this rough air.

"Gemma, darling, don't stand there gawking at me. Look at my face. We haven't really seen eye to eye, I know, but I would like that to change." I try to look up, but all I can do is look at her sharp teeth and watch her mouth form a snarling smile. Dirt and what else I don't want to know is smeared on her cheeks and around her lips. I almost whimper. "Come now, Gemma, remember when you were the strong one?" She barely even touched me, but I was shoved to the ground. "Remember when Felicity and I, oh yes, and that pitiful Ann, remember when we used to _beg_ to you for power? Do you remember when you _denied_ us?" Her voice is beginning to rise, and a growl under the words is growing. "Now you see me, Gemma! Now you know what I am capable of handling! And you, you can't even handle the sight of it. Remember when we used to _shriek_ with laughter?" At this, she laughs that hoarse laugh that would have wrenched my lungs. She begins to shriek. And it is painful. I cover my ears and try not to cry audibly. I must be strong. But she is stronger. I can't beat her. "No! No you can't beat me!" she screams, laughing with power. I can't stop my cowering.

I fight with what little hold I have left on myself, and try to yell, my voice cracking, "Pippa! What have you done? Do _you_ remember when we were friends? Do you remember when boys would trip themselves when you walked by? Where have you gone?" I am trying to reach through her, to the old Pippa, the way there was still part of Ann on the other side. I gasp. Have Ann and Pippa-? I can't think about it. I'm so tired, and weak feeling next to Pippa. I can't stop myself from shaking.

"What do you plan to do about me, Gemma?" I force myself to look into her eyes. They are black, hideous, empty. They turn red as she says, "What _can_ you do?" That monstrous laugh escapes her again. "Let's see how strong you really are, Gemma, with your _magic_. Since you gave it all to yourself, I am sure you will be able to tame me!" Her roar is like a lion's, and the wind billows around us. My hair is yanked loose, and it flies around my head, getting in my face, blocking my vision of Pippa. I panic.

Screaming, I shut eyes and try to see the door. I see it, and many more. I'm trapped in a vast plane of darkness, with five slits of light coming from under and to the side of doors. Which one is mine? I run for the one in the middle, but suddenly all of the doors move, and now there are ten. For every door I reach for, a door appears next to each of the others. I blink through the tears that are forming on my face, and I pray to God that my mother never faced this.

"Gemma," my mother's sweet voice calls from one door. As I go towards that door, none of the others move, and no more appear. "Gemma," she says calmly, "I'm right here." I see from the light under where a door would be a shadow moving, like feet. She's right there. If I can get to her, then everything will be all right. I grab the door handle, and it feels warm. A soothing feeling goes through me. My mother's voice becomes strangled. "Gemma! Don't come in here! Leave! I am dead. This isn't where you can go! Search for the door that holds your protection! Go! She's coming!" I let my hand slide off the doorknob, and it accidentally clicks open. Screams burst from the door, followed by people humming. Above it all, I can hear my mother screaming, "Don't go through there! That's not what you think it is! Gemma! I am blocking the door, but I can't hold. Close the door or run!" I realize what's going on, and try to shove the door shut with my shoulder.

But they're coming too fast. I sob as I turn from the door and begin running to others, trying to find 'my protection'. But what am I supposed to look for? Emotions fly over me as I run from one door to the next. I pass one and feel like banging it in. Anger is surging through me. I can barely hold back from the door. I run to the next, my chest starting to ache as my corset begins to feel tighter. My short breath turns into a cry as I come across one door that makes me feel horrible. I see my mother and Amar lying in the street on my birthday. I smell the dirty room where my father sat, addicted and blissfully unaware of the pain he was causing me. I hear Tom screaming my name, blaming me for everything that's gone wrong in his life. If it wasn't for me, his patients wouldn't have tried to kill him. It's my fault. It all is. I gasp, not even sure if this had happened. I see Kartik, lying in his bed, sweating. His thin breath comes out in wheezes, and he shivers uncontrollably. Oh, god, not Kartik.

I run on. I finally pass a door where I feel nothing, hear nothing, see nothing. I grasp the handle, and find it's not warm, nor icy. I open it.

Pippa grins. She's been waiting for me. I try to shut the door, but before I can, she has her clawed hand in it, and she's laughing as she says, "Don't think that only the Order can come into the Eternal Darkness. Oh, no. We can all, now, as long as someone opens the door!" I scream, and run as hard as I can. Where is the door? What is my protection? Why haven't I ever paid attention during prayers? They must have mentioned God protecting us. And what is Pippa talking about? What eternal darkness? All these thoughts pass through my head within the second that lies between me opening the door and Pippa pouncing on me, grabbing the end of my dress. I can't even yell when her claws sink into my thighs. I am on the ground, dragging myself forward. This is a horrible nightmare. Why can't I wake up? I sniff, and smell Pippa's rank smell. I kick at her, and as a last attempt, I jump up and run, my dress falling almost to shreds around me.

Through my ragged breaths, I smell cinnamon. What a heavenly smell. It smells like…Kartik. If I must die, I want to die by Kartik, I think fleetingly before reaching for the door that holds the odor. I twist at the door. It doesn't open.


	4. A Different Exit

**Kartik's POV**

I focus hard as Mother Elena instructed me. She said that I had to make my mind blank, and see only an eternal darkness. What does she expect? My eyes are closed, and I can't stop thinking about Gemma. She is in trouble somewhere, and here this crazy woman is telling me to think of 'a blanket of pitch black night with stars forming the crack under a door'. What the bloody- does she really expect me to be able to concentrate on just that?

"I expect you to try if you love the girl," Mother Elena murmurs. I get very nervous when she says I love Gemma. I feel something for her, I know that already, but I'm not sure if it's love. We are sitting in my tent still, both cross-legged on the ground with our eyes closed. She is holding my hands, and every now and then answering my thoughts. "Oh, dearie, we only have a minute or so. She is very close to the door, but she is being followed. Death tries to get her. And an enormous power is-" Mother Elena stops for a moment. I open my eyes, just in time to see her shake her head, eyes still closed, and say, "Never mind what I say, but we must hurry." A rising urgency in her voice as she says this causes me to concentrate harder. I breathe slowly, in and out. I will help Gemma. But how can I get to the realms? The Rakshana can't. _You aren't Rakshana anymore_. "That's right," she says, interrupting my thoughts, "you are open to the possibilities of the world." A new thought crosses my mind. I remember Gemma telling me that people could enter the realm when they dreamed.

"Mother Elena?" I ask, trying to sound innocent and hoping she will agree with me, "do you still have any sleep potion?" I remember she had to give Ithal some once after Felicity completely ended their relationship. She nods, understanding, and pulls a jar of dark slushy liquid out of her layers of clothes. I try not to wonder how much is stuffed into her pockets, and instead focus on her as she whispers something. I cannot guess whether she has magic that was taken out of the realms or if this is just some fancy show. After a moment, she hands me the jar, and motions for me to get going. I take a gulp, and the last thing I'm thinking about is how Gemma described the realms.

A disgusting stench makes me open my eyes. I am lying in a dirty stall of a barn. I remember this place from when I had to travel to the Rakshana in London. Faint memories, like a dream. I press my lips together, trying to ignore the smell, and walk outside. I find it pitch black except for a lamp hanging at the front of the barn. I see an unmoving light down the road that is running along the barn side. I pick up the lantern and begin to walk towards it. As I come closer, it fades. I sigh heavily in frustration. Then I remember Mother Elena saying the stars formed the crack under the door, and something about eternal darkness. I extinguish the lamp, and immediately, darkness falls all around, except for the lines of light, forming as if behind a closed door. I walk up to it, and reach out to where a door handle would be. I find it, and under my grasp, I feel it shaking. Someone is trying to get through. I push at the door, sensing the anxiety of the person behind the door. It opens, and I watch. It's like I'm seeing the door open from a distance, and I had just imagined the door being closer. Out tumbles Gemma, and immediately, I'm right there again.

I catch her, but all she does is scream, and I see that a monster of a woman is racing through the door after Gemma. I don't allow anyone, nor any_thing_ to hurt my Gemma. I grab the door handle and try to pull the door closed. The thing grabs the door with long yellowed claws, and I kick at it. It cackles with a disturbing assurance and hoarseness. I grimace, and push its hand off with my own. The thing, instead of gloating at me as I expected, screams with pain. The sound seems to vibrate in my head, and Gemma moans. But the creature lets go, and I shut the door, and with that goes the little light, and the dream.

I'm back in my tent with Gemma, but Mother Elena isn't there. I'm standing there, holding Gemma up. She is pressed up against me as I hold her, and I notice how warm she is, as well as her shivering. I press my face into her hair, and I whisper, "Gemma." She breaks down sobbing, and I bring her to the ground slowly. She leans into me, her face in my chest, and I feel awkward. Aren't young women taught to hold themselves in public? But I can't help but feel good, with her right there beside me. She tells me everything that has gone wrong since she has come back to Spence. She whispers about how Felicity and Ann have changed, and she barely even talks of Pippa, other than with a few scared words. And more, about how she couldn't take Simon anymore, because of what she's been through and learned. This makes me feel prominent in her life, knowing the only man she has in her life other than her father is me. I stroke her hair, and rest my chin on top of her head. My dear Gemma. What ever could have made me try to deny my feelings for you? I sigh, and pull her closer to me. Slowly, her crying subsides, and she just breathes her warm breath onto me. I don't want to intrude on her, so I let her sit there for few minutes. And who's to deny it? I love feeling her beside me. I wonder if she loves being beside me. I wonder if she even realizes what she's doing, and who is holding her.

A faint word escapes her lips. "Kartik…" She knows it's me. I can't say how glad I am for that. I feel my heart begin to beat faster, and as I hold Gemma, I realize that hers is, too. She pulls herself up, away from me, and looks straight into my eyes. Her green eyes are so beautiful. They send this electric feeling through me. I brush her hair out of her face. She blushes her pretty pink, and I see her leaning towards me. I reach out to her, and we are kissing. Her nose brushes mine, and I feel her lips radiating warmth. It is so passionate that I blush. My hands are on her back, running up and down her length. Her hands are caught in my hair. We are pulling each other closer. I feel her pressed against me. I open my eyes slightly to see her cheeks and neck. I start kissing all over her face, trying to wipe every spot clean of her earlier problem. I hear her breath catch as I kiss the base of her neck, and I realize what I'm doing.

I force myself, painfully, to pull back. I look into her eyes, and see there are tears beginning on the sides. There is such a painful longing in them that I want to kiss her again. I must not get caught up in the feeling. But I can't stop myself from feeling it. I see her trying to say something, but I say, "My Gemma," and I hold her. She fits perfectly into me, as if we were meant to be. But we aren't. I feel tears in my eyes, too, knowing that we can't be. It hurts more than holding myself back. I swallow. We look into each other's eyes for the longest moment. And what a sweet moment. Her eyes are the richest green in the center, and change shade as they go farther out. What lovely eyes she has. I smile at her, and she smiles back. I can't say whether a minute passes, or an hour. It could have been several hours, for all I kept track of. I just see her eyes.

I'm so tired. I let myself slowly drop onto my back, and Gemma lies with her head on my chest. My arm is already wrapped around her. I think I've lived through all of the hardships of life and the Rakshana for this feeling. It is warming. I sigh, and my chest heaves up and down, moving Gemma with it. I lay there until I hear Gemma say, "I'm going to sleep, Kartik." Without a question or second thought, her breathing slows, and soon I'm caught in the rhythm of the crickets outside and Gemma's breathing. After a while, I join in them.

A rustling noise pulls me out of my peaceful sleep. I have this warm feeling on my eyelids, as if I'm lying out in the sun. My eyes open to find Gemma starting to get up, all the while looking at me. I pretty much _am_ lying out in the sun. Her golden red hair seems to glow, and this pleasant look on her face of sleep not quite shaken off makes me smile. It was her, I realize, that was making the noise. I find that she has taken off her top dress, much to my embarrassment, as well as mixed feelings I try to push away, and that she is trying to undue her corset.

"It is hard to breathe in this," she says softly, as if trying to save herself the air. I see that it is costing her a lot to keep her composure, taking in her flushed cheeks and this look in her eyes that seems to be gazing distantly. I move towards her, and after giving a gesture, she lowers her hands, which had been uncomfortably twisted behind her back, and I begin to undue the strings. As I loosen each row, her breath sighs out louder and louder. At last, the garment falls away from her and she turns towards me, and I try not to goggle.

She is beautiful, put plainly. But she is anything but plain. Her hair falls across her shoulders gracefully. Her arms look soft and lithe. Her abdomen, before squeezed by the corset, is let loose under her light shirts. It's somewhat hard for me to breathe. Gemma's dear face is sweeter than the most perfect doll, and there is still a faint flush from her labored breathing. She let's out a long sigh, and I see her chest rise and fall with it, and then, before I can think it through, I'm kissing her again. And she's kissing me. My hands feel horribly rough as I hold her upper arms, bracing her up. Her hands rise up, stroking under my shirt. I realize what she is doing, and I don't feel regret. I just feel this warm ripple through my gut as her cool, delicate fingers run against my muscles. A smile plays at my lips, even as I kiss, her, and we both start laughing, still kissing. My tongue finds its way into her mouth, and she admits it. Oh, God, I'm in bliss. I shouldn't be doing this. If anything was to happen…

But I'm sure we can restrain ourselves. How could I worry about shaming her? This is Gemma, and when she says to, I will stop. But even as we come into an even more passionate interlock, I feel this foreboding in the back of my mind. What if she is caught by the Spence people? Why would she be? They never come here. Except, that Worthington girl might be trudging around, or their other friend, Ms. Bradshaw. I am tangled in confusion, and finally decide to stop. I gently let go of Gemma's arms, and when she doesn't stop, I gently push at her in the chest. My mistake, for my heart starts beating even faster than before, and I see Gemma is getting strange feelings too, as I can tell from her face. I slide my hands quickly to her shoulders, and she lets go, too. She smiles, weakly, a blush creeping onto her magnificent features.

She whispers, "We can't do this." A sad smile crosses her face, and I nod solemnly. We can't do this. If we do, we'll just form a deeper connection. What is deeper than love? I ask myself. Do I love her? If I can't make that commitment, and if she can't either, then there is no way we can even think we can allow ourselves to…kiss. To do worse. I smile shyly at her.

"I know." And that is all that is needed. We understand. We think the exact same thoughts. It hurts to know that the sacrifice for this wouldn't be on my part, but on hers. And I never want to be the reason Gemma sacrifices something. Because I understand how it would turn out.

A crash outside and a low swear makes us notice the sun was lighting up the tent, through the fabric and slits in the walls. We stand together, and I say, "I guess we'll have to lace you back up again." She laughs her light laugh, and I am just happy with knowing Gemma is happy. We hurriedly work at her corset, she teaching me how to re-lace it, while I tell her jokes to hear her laugh again. Finally, she pulls the dress on and I button up the last one, at the back of her neck. I brush her hair back down, and feeling that unbelievable confidence I felt when I kissed her, I turn Gemma around, cup my hand behind her neck, and kiss her sweetly, one last time before she must go. She is surprised at first, then gives me back an innocent, lasting kiss.

I am watching her make her way, away from me, back to that whole other world. I want to follow. I will find a way to. As I see the last of Gemma's dress leave my eyesight, I wonder how I managed to get to the realms last night, and how I could open the door. I must ask Gemma. It might be too risky to see her again in person for awhile. I think of a way to write what else I want to ask. If she more than just cares for me… But I can't. I'm not as brave as to ask her so straight-forwardly. But I must remember to also ask her how she could leave the realms and end up in another place.


	5. A Trouble with Ann

**Gemma's POV**

I walk away from the campsite reluctantly, yet knowing that I will be late to class as it is. My thoughts don't make much sense, most trailing back to last night's and this morning's events. _Events_. My face smirks at how highly I hold those events. He was so warm, so assuring. I blush as I remember the last thing I thought before grabbing the door. _If I must die, I want to die by Kartik._ Tears taint my vision. Get a hold of yourself, Gemma. But I can't help it. I remember how I always wished to understand myself, and now, I know something more.

I believe I am in love with Kartik.

I end up sniffling all the way back to the open yard of Spence Academy. I can't believe how distressing this is to me. It is like I've just opened a present and find that what I was expecting was there, but I'm still so happy that I'm crying. It's filling me up. I touch a hand to my cheek, and find it wet. I'm smiling, I'm crying, and I can't stop from giving a loud laugh. I feel like I'm basking in the sun. I want to dance, and skip, and do all sorts of little, childish things. I come to the large door and realize what I'm feeling. Joy. I've been under the pressure of the realms, Ann, Felicity, Simon, and the rest of the world's expectations that I've not felt this feeling for so long. It's a wonderful feeling.

I shove open the door, wincing at the squeak of the hinges, and try to hold back a giggle. I feel like a girl again, taking delight in breaking the rules and sneaking in late.

"Ms. Doyle! What in heaven's-?" Brigid cuts herself off as she does a sort of waddle as fast as she can to me. My face hurts, I'm smiling so hard. She is huffing slightly as she comes up to me, and just looks at me for a moment. "Ooooh, dear." What does she think is wrong?

I grin at her and say, "Dear Brigid, what ever is the matter?" I find myself wanting to hug her, just happy to know that this someone has been in my life for what seems like a long time.

"Ms. Doyle," she whispers, "just go up to your room, and if anyone asks, I'll say that you've not taken well. Ms. Bradshaw is there, she is somewhat, ah," she pauses, searching for a word, "inconvenienced as you right now. Now, shoo!" She waved her hands, and I found her all the more dear in her motherly fashion, not seeing any trace of that annoying, self-centered self that she usually seemed to have. I beam at her before ascending the stairs.

I open my door to find Ann, yet again, on her bed, but this time, she isn't huddled in the corner whimpering like before. Now, she is like yester's day, only was it so recent? That sure look and sign of magic in her is there, and I feel some of my cheerfulness sucked away. Her legs are hanging off of the side of the bed, her stocking covered feet sturdily placed on the ground. In one hand, she is twirling an embroidery needle around. In the other, her fist is crushing an envelope. My sweet Ann, who used to be so predictable and easily pleased, is staring at me with hard eyes, a twisted expression that could be a smile adorning her face.

"Ann…"

She nods her head, then gestures for me to sit on my bed across from her. I feel her power, and I can't help but silently obey. That little girl part of me that I'd been feeling stops glowing. I'm left with fear. I can see that something has upset this new Ann, and I have the feeling that she wants to tell me about it. I'm afraid of what she might do, and clasp my hands together, trying not to fidget, looking at her top button of her sweater, which is hanging off on a single string.

"Gemma, you really shouldn't go off and see that Indian boy at night. You can never be too careful, and you never know when some things might get out of hand." Her fingers stop playing with the needle. I gulp nervously. I am not certain that Ann is stable, and I feel like a traitor as I think this. "But, you might as well go to see him, because the people who love you, who you love, they won't care for you the next day. Every single one of those people in the world is treacherous. You can never trust them. I never told you, but I received a letter from my uncle saying that he had no need of my services, so that once I am done with schooling, I can pursue any family to treat with a governess. You don't know how pleased I was… I told Felicity, and she said we could make plans for me to teach her little cousin, who will live right near her. Felicity and I were so excited." Since when were Felicity and Ann all that close? When did they even discuss this? The only reason they were ever friends was because of me, and I don't see how the relationship between them has grown so overnight. Of course, I obviously must not see a lot since Ann has magic. "But just last night, when you were gone, a night messenger came to say that my uncle has found a family write near him that needs a governess immediately, and I am to go straight away." She explodes with tears.

"I had to take it all by myself!" she cries. "All I ask for is anyone to be there for me, and there is no one. Mrs. Nightwing just smiled, acting as if this was all right." I didn't say anything, but I thought that this was how Ann was supposed to end up. I realize how cruel that thought is. I'm actually willing to leave Ann to the horrible future as a governess? "I had hope, Gemma. I, I, I was s-s-so s-sure th-that it'd change. I-I was h-hoping that o-one day, I-I'd make it somewhere gr-reat. Oh, well." She is the old Ann again, her nose running, with a soft smile of defeat and acceptance. She began to play with the needle again.

"No, no Ann." I come to sit next to her, laying my hand over her fidgeting one, to help calm her as well as calm myself. I am relieved when the needle stops moving under my palm. "You can't give up. We'll find a way." I can only think of Felicity and I as I try to find people who will want to help. "Maybe, when Tom gets married and has children, you can teach them." I could have slapped myself. Ann is gaping at me, her wet face flushing.

"Gemma, the only reason I've sat here waiting for you is to see if you were the friend I thought you were. I guess-" The other Ann is saying this, and I can't stop from shaking a little. What does she mean, waiting? "Even with magic, I can be wrong. You want to know what I used the magic for? To make my uncle not need me. To save me." The last three words are whispered. "But, of course, magic takes words in with different meaning than they are intended for. My uncle says that I should marry the eldest brother of the children I am to teach, who is nearly twenty. I have always wanted someone to care for me, but without even knowing them at first? And to have to be in a horrible trap between teaching sisters- and brothers-in-law while being with some gruesome man who can't get any ladies to see him? I would rather die." She says the last word with a stone cold tone. I gasp.

"Ann, surely you cannot mean…" I can't think of what to say. That you are going to kill yourself? I finally realize her intentions. The needle has started moving under my hand again, and I yank it from her grasp. She yells, tipping towards it as I hold it away. "Ann Bradshaw, you are ill and cannot think straight." I run out quickly and call for Brigid.

She arrives with red blotching her cheeks, and says, "What in the world, Ms. Doyle? Do you need someone to talk to about your night?" She has the strange look in her eyes, as if she knows that I was with a man, not that we were doing anything improper, well, not _really_ improper. I shake my head, trying to focus on now. Why must Brigid come back to her old self _now_?

"Goodness, Brigid, I need you to take Ann to the sick room. She is acting ill and I think she needs someone to watch her." I pull Ann's sleeve, and she comes to the door, letting herself be pulled, giving up.

"Hmm, well, I guess we'll have to postpone a week or so before you leave us, dearie." Ann mumbles a reply, but it is all I can do to keep surprise from my face. What is happening to Ann? Is she really sick? I try to accompany them to the sick room, but Brigid sends me back, saying I need more rest. I come back to my room, and find she is right. I collapse onto the bed, and am asleep in less than a minute.

_The three girls prance around gaily near the cliff. A woman with a green cloak stands by, watching. The waves crash amongst the rocks, an undertow hidden in the icy depths. I watch as it happens again. The girls are swallowed. There is one left behind, crying. I long to comfort her. Yet already, I can see she is Nell Hawkins, from the hospital. I am watching this from a distance, out in the ocean, and I try to come closer. I lean in, watching as the green figure near the girl picks up something white and holds it to the side of her head. What is it? Before I can wonder further, the loud sound of waves gathers in my head, sending me reeling. The noise! It is everywhere. The stormy, crashing splashes of water as it gathers itself into a massive wall and clashes with another. The monstrous enormity echoes in my head, and I cover my ears and scream, willing it to stop. Begging. Stop…end now…._

Shrieking girls and laughter awaken me from sleep. I look out the window, and find the sky to be the orange of evening. In between the noises of girls, I hear Mrs. Nightwing speaking quickly.

"Come girls, move aside. Clear the way! Ms. Temple, please tell those girls they must move. Which room was Ms. Bradshaw's again? Ah, here, hurry now." _Was _Ms. Bradshaw's? Did Ann decide to move out while I was sleeping? Surely not. The door flings open, and Mrs. Nightwing is in the doorframe, and behind her I see the girls staring and talking. I sigh, but then take in Mrs. Nightwing. Tears run down her usually carefully controlled face. She is pale, but her eyes are darkened with shadows. Her straight back is slouched a little, and I can see her shoulders losing their strength and beginning to sag.

I try to say something, but Felicity trails into sight just then. Her gray eyes are steel, and she is flushed. Before she even looks at me, I can see she is glaring. Her jaw muscles are taut, as if she is using an enormous amount of self-control. I can't think of anything to say to these changed faces, and a silence grows. The girls who are out in the hall stop speaking, and their shoes whisper against the floor as they head towards their rooms.

Mrs. Nightwing takes a breath, and says, "Dear, dear Ms. Doyle." Even in the unspoken turmoil, she manages to keep up some formality. Stress is etched between her eyebrows. I wait for her to continue. Another breath, "I know that Ms. Bradshaw was a dear friend of yours, as well as yours, Ms. Worthington." She nods slightly to Felicity, who seems to be holding her breath. "I want you girls to understand, that in all of my many, _long_ years here at Spence, nothing like this has ever occurred. Even before me, the worst that had happened was…" Mrs. Nightwing looks out the window, and I see the last rays of the sun shining in her eyes. "The fire. I cannot say what drove Ann to do it. It is a mockery. She was on the brink of starting her life as a full grown woman, but still she decided to do it. As much pressure as I understand Ms. Bradshaw was under, what could have made her-?" Mrs. Nightwing swirls around abruptly, and leaves the room at a dignified fast pace. I'm left with Felicity standing there, working hard not to make eye contact with me.

"Fee, you must explain to me what is happening. Has Ann left then? I thought she was to wait…" Felicity's mouth puckered, and I see her control starting to fail. She comes across the room in silent steps, and looks at Ann's bed. I gesture for her to sit, but she just stares at the bed in this confounded way. Finally, she lowers herself onto the desk chair. She tries to sigh, but instead it comes out as a sob. Why does she always need to be so dramatic? She stares at the side of my bed, as if there is something interesting there. I resist the urge to look for myself, and again push her. "Felicity? Tell me what on earth is wrong."

She slowly brings her head up, her eyes leveling with mine, those silver orbs now glittered with tears. "It isn't what's on earth that is wrong, Gem."


	6. Trouble with Happiness

**Gemma's POV**

Felicity tries to explain it to me again. I raise my hand, telling her to stop, my head too tired to lift. There is a soft thudding at the back of my head, and I realize it's my heart beating. It drones on, and is making me feel worse than ever. But at least there is a heartbeat to hear.

Images of what I imagined from Felicity's words run through my head. Ann sniffling in the sick room with the old nurse sitting in a rocking chair, doing crochet. Ann asking the woman if she could do some embroidery. Why was it always the embroidery? I long to ask her, to ask Ann, to talk to her, but I know I can't. The nurse fell asleep, and that is when Ann started. I see her running the needle across her wrist, watching in disgusted horror as blood seeps from the thin line and onto the linens. She gasps at one point, the nurse waking up, just in time to see Ann's head loll over. And that is it. No more Ann.

I'm silent for awhile. I know that Felicity expects this silence to be caused by mourning, and in thought of life, but my mind runs without thought. I am trying to take this in, but I can't stop from looking at the door, waiting for a bunch of girls to start giggling. Delighted at how easily I fell for their cruel joke. The giggles don't start. The sun has gone all the way down, now, leaving only faint streaks of lighted blue on the horizon, with tall silhouettes of trees layering on top. I sit there, and still nothing fits. No realization comes over me, no tears feel as if they should be shed. My hands don't even shake.

I don't feel human. I can't possibly be, otherwise wouldn't I be feeling the pain that humans feel? Of loss, of sorrow? No. Nothing comes. This is so unlike a lady, so unlike anything. I hate myself for not wishing that the past was back, for not wishing for Ann to be able to sing in front of the class anymore, or allow herself to hope. I hate myself for leaving her.

Hadn't it been I who had known what Ann was thinking? Then why hadn't I told someone? Felicity hadn't ever known of the scars marking Ann's wrists, of the pain she suffered hidden behind watery eyes and a runny nose. No one had known. Except me, and it was because of me that no one kept a better eye on Ann. That no one knew what Ann used embroidery needles for. Tears begin to blur my vision, and Felicity reaches over and hugs me. I let my chin rest on her shoulder, but I know that these tears aren't of pain, they are of anger. Anger towards myself, for allowing this to happen. Another friend, killed because of me. If I hadn't let them go. I had been only trying to protect her name. It was bad enough that the one man she had ever really cared for, my brother, and the rest of the world believed her to be a sneak, a liar. I didn't want them thinking she was unstable as well.

And then the real tears of death start coming. They pour over, and my chest starts heaving. Sobs are my breaths, and guilt is my thought. Felicity lets her breath out, her chin resting on my back, and I can hear the hiss of air saying, _you. You._ I feel my face flushing, even as I grow colder. Is it right that I was responsible? I cannot believe that this is happening. Felicity rubs my back, and I feel her tears as they leak onto my shoulder. I remember the last time we'd spoken, it'd been in vain. I sigh, hoping that she's forgiven me, because I doubt I have the strength left to apologize.

There is a service of prayers the next day, but we might as well have done nothing. Felicity and I sit by Mrs. Nightwing, who has taken a seat in the front row for today. Girls all around us chatter quietly, making fun of dear Ann.

"Who died?"

"That scholarship girl who never had a chance."

"That's not true, she could sing in so lovely a voice! Pity she couldn't become a singer or something."

"Couldn't. She was to be leaving as a governess just this morning, but fell sick. Can't say that she couldn't try though…"

"Oh please. She was always tagging along that Worthington girl, acting like they were _equals_."

"Wonder how it happened…"

"Some say that she didn't want to become a governess, so she killed herself!"

_Gasp._ "No! I would rather that than death! Better trapped in the open air than down in some musty old coffin." _Giggles._

"What Worthington girl? Oh, you mean _her._ Well I heard that her mother…"

"And who is that other girl?"

"Jenny Dopple, or something like that. She isn't anyone in society. I believe she moved from India…"

"Lived with Indians?" _Gasps._ "She must have used witchcraft or voo doo on the poor girl!" They shriek at the absurdity. My insides feel enflamed, and as much as I want to go over there and slap them, I am embarrassed. I feel uncloaked. Even as frivolity, their story seems to fall into place very well. I wish I could show them what power I could release.

It is building up inside of me. Ever since I bound the magic, it's been piling up within me. The weight is so much. I want to let out my raging feelings. I want to unleash it upon them. Then they will see. Then-

"Gemma," comes Felicity's nagging whisper, "for heaven's sake, let go!" I look down, and find my hand constricting around hers. I undo my grip, and find her hand discolored, purple at the finger tips, and red on her palm. I glance up to Fee's face, and it's white. She's breathing heavily as she glares with her angry gray eyes.

"Good grief, Gemma. It's not like the queen die-" She looks shocked by her own words, but after staring at me for a moment, she flushes. I realize my expression. "Well," she snaps, "it was only an accident. It's not like I said something important." Tears prick her eyes as she steps out of the row and walks down the aisle, away from me, away from Ann, away from everyone.

The whole service was abominable. After Felicity left, the whispering became worse, until I, too, walked out of the chapel. Now, I sit alone in my room. Staring at the mirror across from me, I try to conjure some goodness of Ann. All I can see is her singing. But, in the realms, she was so happy. So beautiful. There's not much pain. I force tears to form in my eyes, but they just make me feel all the worse.

"All I want," I whisper, "is for her to be happy." My reflection sits expressionlessly across from me. "Good night."

Can you say that just because days feel longer than years, that they _are_ longer? I have been given time to ponder. I use this time, continuously. I have thought over everything. Or at least, that's how it feels. I imagine how life will be with one less friend, with only Felicity. She will break away, and then where will I be? What am I saying? It feels as if she has already broken away from me. We are no longer what we once were. I will never walk again into my room and see Ann's sweet face, contemplating death or humming a beautiful tune. It has been two weeks since Ann's service, and I believe that I am going to survive this long onset of numbness, of turmoil.

What I think about most, though, is India. I let myself go to my memories, and realize that, even though I didn't have any girls my age there to play with, I never had to feel betrayal, death, jealousy, or hate. Why must English people demand so much of the soul? In India, I was free. Free to be happy, free to be friendless, and free of all this torturous feeling. Even on my birthday, before my mother died, I felt a more childish emotion than that I feel now. How I long for India.

I will restart my classes today. I change by myself in my room, and without the help of a roommate, I trouble myself with calling Brigid and have her help me dress. There is a renewed feeling in the air, and I would call it light-hearted joy if not for the recent death. Brigid is humming to herself as she helps me.

She looks at my bleak expression and says, "Ms. Doyle, there is no use in wishin' for dear Ms. Bradshaw, God rest her soul, to come back. You must learn to let go if you are to move on." I shift my attention from staring blankly out the window to her. And smile. As bothersome as I find Brigid at times, and as many times those words have been said, I still feel better, finally understanding the wisdom of those words as I have never before. A new determination leads me as I head toward the great hall. There have been moments when the great have balked at such a thing as getting back up, but I will show that even the insignificant Ms. Doyle can hoist herself onto the horse.

Crossing the threshold, I find much of my resolve fleeing from the room. Eyes bore into me as I scan the tables, hoping to find Felicity. She has been in classes for the past week now, unable to handle the last week she was given for mourning and introspection. I wonder if she has fared well with this. I shall soon find out.

I head toward our usual seats, and see all three spots empty. Something catches in my throat. I can almost see Ann sitting in her spot next to me, sniffling and silently watching Felicity and I talk, every now and then putting in her word. She never said her thoughts, I realize. A sad smile comes to my face, and I hold back tears. I truly thought I was over Ann. But I can't be. I never will be. Just as I am never going to be finished with Pippa's death. I shake my head. I shouldn't be thinking so glumly, or else I'll fall into some state of hysterical depression, or whatever Tom tried to tell me about once.

I end up sitting at the edge of the table, next to some younger girls, unable to find Felicity. I can't remember the last thing I said to her, and can't think of a reason for her to be avoiding me. Except, of course, the turn of recent events.

I sigh, and eat my somewhat cold breakfast with a growing appreciation for the life of everyone around me. These last weeks have been silent, and lifeless, with only the occasional visit from Brigid with food to wake me from limbo. Everything seems so beautiful. There is no fire under the mantle yet, as it's still the nicer part of fall. Even without the light, there is a glow coming from everyone's faces, rosy with life and youth, carefree spirits and hopeful thoughts.

When did I grow older?

Did it happen when I wasn't looking? Perhaps when I was sleeping? I sigh. There is nothing better about age but this new-found happiness in other's frivolity. I can't see what splits me off from others?

My brain wakes up, suddenly. _Gemma Doyle_, a stern voice says to me, my mother's voice, _you are my daughter, the doorkeeper to the Realms. _-What realms?- _You are of the Order,_-what did I order?-_ and you will _not_ let yourself be lost._-I am right here- _You have magic._ I blink. I want to slap myself. I want to rage and kick something until my anger is out. I'm angry at me. At my stupidity. At my willingness to let go of magic, the Realms, my mother. What is happening to me?

I've lost happiness. I've found reality. And I can't say which I'm inclined to prefer.

My memory has fully returned, and I remember now. Ann using magic without a source…. Pippa laughing in my face…. Felicity raging in jealousy…. Kartik, holding me gently….

Of course! I must get to Kartik as soon as possible. He might know something about what's happening to me. He might know why my mind is blocking out the magic.

And, I need to go to the Realms.


End file.
